


shake off the shame (wearin' nothing but blame)

by sinningpumpkin



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinningpumpkin/pseuds/sinningpumpkin
Summary: “You’ve really never put a hand around your cock?” It’s almost comical how fast Dimitri’s face goes red hot as his eyes widen. He sputters in vague outrage but Sylvain just shakes his head. “No wonder you’re so uptight.”“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dimitri fires back.~Or Sylvain gets Dimitri drunk after a dry spell.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 75





	shake off the shame (wearin' nothing but blame)

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from oh GOD by orla gartland which rlly do be dimitri's yummy 'catholic' guilt

“Sylvain?” 

He freezes when Dimitri calls his name. He doesn’t sound particularly angry or accusatory. Yet. Sylvain doesn’t turn to him, silent as he carefully extracts a bottle of wine from the back of the cellar. Once it’s safely in his grasp, he finally responds. “Yes, Your Highness?”

Dimitri sighs and Sylvain counts each cellar step that creaks under his weight as the prince comes closer. “I told you, don’t bother with the formalities.” He reaches the bottom of the staircase, but doesn’t cross the tiny room. “What are you doing down here, anyway?”

Sylvain closes his eyes and quickly searches for an excuse. It takes a moment, and he can feel the prince beginning to feel impatient. “Sylva--”

He spins on his heel with a smile, holding the wine out triumphantly. “Well, I’m calling in my favor, Your Highness.” He lays it on thick enough that Dimitri is momentarily distracted. When he does spot the wine, his eyes narrow and the corners of his lips turn down like they always do when he’s about to scold someone. Sylvain hooks an arm around the back of Dimitri’s neck and drags him back up the rotting stairs. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten!” He tugs Dimitri out of the cellar as he talks, maneuvering them both out the back door of the kitchen and away from any lingering cooks.

A wave of heat hits them the moment they step out into the night. Sylvain lets go of him and runs a hand through his frizzing hair as he tsks at his prince. “Remember? I saved you from that… disastrous courting…” He trails off as realization finally passes over Dimitri’s face. His eyes dart to the wine bottle and Sylvain laughs. “Now you’re catching on! Let’s go.” He gestures over his shoulder as he sets off toward the Goddess Tower. He’s half expecting the prince to blow him off, but after a quick glance at the heavens, he follows.

After a punishing summer, Sylvain is happy to have any company at all as he sneaks across the deserted monastery. A usual night at this hour would be spent wildly carousing with women or drinking down in town. But the damp air made his hair frizzy and the heat made every girl turn up their nose in distaste at him. In short, Sylvain is terribly bored. And Dimitri is a good enough drinking partner as any.

“Why… here?” Dimitri asks as they step into the tower. The punishing heat abates within the tower and Sylvain lay himself out on the cool stone. The cold works through his loose shirt and pants, drying some of the sweat on his skin as he works the wax off the bottle.

“No one will bother us.” Sylvain slugs back a few gulps, before shaking the bottle at Dimitri. He hasn’t sat yet, still looking slightly apprehensive about getting caught. “I promise, Your Highness.” Sylvain keeps shaking the bottle at him until Dimitri finally sits cross-legged a few feet away. Hesitantly, he takes the bottle, and Sylvain lies back. “Besides, if anyone does catch us, they’ll just think I corrupted you.”

Dimitri actually gives a soft laugh at that, taking a dainty sip of wine before trying to set it aside. “You can do better than that, Dimitri, c’mon.” Sylvain goads him on and for once, Dimitri actually takes the bait and gulps a few more swallows. “There you go!” He snags the bottle and knocks some more back. “The best way to wind down.” Sylvain laces his fingers behind his head and stares at the ceiling. “Well, second… third best way.” He laughs to himself--knowing that the prince won’t appreciate the joke.

“What are the first and second?”

Sylvain laughs, before glancing at Dimitri and realizing he’s actually being serious. His brows furrowed and head tilted to the side like a puppy. With a sigh, he drinks some more wine and then shoves the bottle back into Dimitri’s hand. “You’re gonna need some more wine for this, your highness.” Dimitri is becoming easier to convince with each swallow, brows still furrowed as he drains more of the bottle.

“The first is, well, spending the night with a woman. Of course.” The wine’s already starting to get to him. He’s been sober for far too long. 

“Ah, Sylvain--”

“Be quiet,” he snaps, eyes rolling to Dimitri. He looks surprised. Maybe a little embarrassed. But not yet mad. Sylvain rolls toward him. “You haven’t been with a woman yet, have you, Your Highness?” 

Mild embarrassment curdles into hot humiliation and Dimitri raises the bottle to hide his flushed cheeks. It doesn’t work. “Then you won’t be able to end the night in my favorite way. But the second should be fine. Even better with some wine in you.” Between the alcohol and the syrupy innuendos, heat’s already starting to brew in Sylvain’s groin. He spreads his legs a bit wider and reaches for the bottle in Dimitri’s slack grip.

Before he can steal it, his fingers curl around Sylvain’s wrist. The hold is steady and Sylvain wonders if the prince can feel the flutter of his blood under his skin. He swallows and glances up at Dimitri’s face--eyes lingering on his golden hair and the flush at the tops of his cheeks. “What’s the second-best way, Sylvain?” He’s dizzied by the tone of Dimitri’s voice, accidentally seductive as his palm starts to sweat on Sylvain’s arm.

Then, Dimitri’s words catch up to him. He breaks out of his grip and the tension dissipates below the rhythm of his laugh. Dimitri doesn’t join in though, and Sylvain chokes on his mouthful of wine. “You really don’t know?” The prince’s purity was somewhat of a joke around the Blue Lions, but this was another matter entirely. Dimitri shakes his head, eyes glimmering like an innocent puppy again. Sylvain forces himself to look away, his earlier comment about corruption needling the back of his mind. He hadn’t yet corrupted Dimitri. Not like he’d been wanting to. 

“No?” Dimitri sounds truly confused. Fresh desire pulses in Sylvain’s gut and he sits up enough to gulp more wine. “Should I?”

Sylvain sets the bottle down and swings his head toward Dimitri. “Probably.” Dimitri still doesn’t look like he’s catching on and Sylvain can’t help but smirk as he leans a bit further into the prince’s space. “You’ve really never put a hand around your cock?” It’s almost comical how fast Dimitri’s face goes red hot as his eyes widen. He sputters in vague outrage but Sylvain just shakes his head. “No wonder you’re so uptight.”

“What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?” Dimitri fires back. Much easier than he ever would sober.

“It’s called stress relief, Your Highness.” Dimitri shakes his head, but it doesn’t do much to deter him. “I sleep like a baby afterward. All the worry just… melts away.” Sylvain slides a hand between his legs to adjust his trousers. When he looks back to Dimitri, the prince seems puzzled. He’s working a hole into his lip with his teeth, brows furrowed. He’s still flushed across the bridge of his nose and Sylvain lifts the bottle to his lips instead of darting forward to kiss the pink hue.

“I don’t…” Dimitri says it slowly. Sylvain soaks up his confusion with a vaguely disgusting kind of satisfaction.

“What? You need a demonstration?” He arches into Dimitri’s space as he teases him, only to find those glimmering eyes wide, flush flaring, bitten red mouth falling open. Sylvain’s cock throbs. They blink at each other for a moment. Sylvain’s mouth stretches into a salacious grin.

“No, Sylvain, of course not!” His voice squeaks. Sylvain braces his hand beside Dimitri’s hip, close enough to feel the heat around them magnify.

“Not very convincing, Prince,” Sylvain singsongs, tilting his head so he’s looking up at Dimitri. The prince meets his gaze through half-lidded eyes. His breath smells like wine and Sylvain distantly notices that his lashes are blond. His protests dip into silence for a moment and Sylvain lets his gaze drag over the curve of his nose and to the bow of his lips.

“It would be… improper.”

Sylvain only barely suppresses a laugh. And even with Dimitri’s silted protests, he’s yet to move away. “Improper?” Sylvain repeats softly. “It’s the height of summer, Your Highness.” His heart is rattling against his ribs, blood pulsing in his cock as he breathes in Dimitri’s sweat. “Doesn’t the goddess demand… fertility offerings?” It’s clumsy and no doubt incorrect, but he’s practically in Dimitri’s lap and with no women in sight... 

“I guess,” Sylvain’s heart jumps into his throat and he tries to remember how to breathe. “I guess you are right, Sylvain.” Dimitri’s lashes flutter, glimmering eyes flicking up to meet Sylvain’s. He doesn’t wait for real permission, Sylvain doesn’t think he can between the way Dimitri holds his stare and how his groin throbs. But for all his desperation his movements are slow and steady. Sweaty fingers find the clasp of Dimitri’s cloak and the heavy fabric falls away from his back. Dimitri’s still staring at him, and Sylvain shuffles closer, paying no mind to the bottle he knocks over. His hot hand cups the back of Dimitri’s neck and when he pulls, Dimitri goes easily.

He spreads himself out over his glowing cloak, the color of their holy kingdom, and somehow its the most erotic thing Sylvain’s ever seen. He rushes then, breath leaving him all at once as he pries his way under Dimitri’s elaborate garb. He can’t believe the prince hasn’t shed any of his layers and the first bare skin that’s revealed is slick with sweat. Sylvain lays his first kiss to that shimmering skin, tasting his sweat and absorbing the sounds of stilted desire as Dimitri shakes off his gauntlets.

The second kiss he lays over Dimitri’s heart after shoving his undershirt up under his arms. Shivery, shaking hands find a grip in Sylvain’s hair and he flicks his tongue over Dimitri’s skin. He drags his hands down Dimitri’s thighs, lips sliding down his navel until he’s able to shove off his boots. He reaches for the laces of his pants, but Dimitri beats him to it, freeing his pretty cock without any shame to spare. Sylvain rises onto his knees, a hand on Dimitri’s hip as he glances up at the prince.

He’s quiet and when Sylvain stills entirely he can feel the way Dimitri’s entire body trembles. He rests a hand on Dimitri’s belly, searching for words that never come. Instead, he flattens his body over him, pressing his elbows into the plush cloak as their hips fit together. Dimitri makes another soft noise, lips only barely parting as they stare at each other. The prince can’t seem to find any words either, so Sylvain doesn’t ask for any. He kisses the side of his jaw instead and hopes that is comfort enough for what may come.

He stays close as he sucks his own fingers into his mouth, coating them thoroughly before they dip between Dimitri’s supple thighs. As Sylvain breaches him, he’s again dizzied by the thought of his prince being untouched. He licks his lips and sinks a second finger in, ears ringing as Dimitri gasps out his name. His fingers curl around Dimitri’s cock, spreading the wetness there and trying to calm his insistent shaking. For a moment it does, Dimitri blooms beneath him, thighs spreading and body opening when Sylvain’s fingers curl. 

And then Dimitri’s open palms land on his shoulders. The shove is weak, but surprising enough to almost set Sylvain off balance. But he surges forward again, pressing their chests together and kissing beneath Dimitri’s chin. His hand tightens around Dimitri’s cock and his fingers curl again. The prince settles and Sylvain coos. He swipes his thumb over the head of Dimitri’s dick and twists his fingers to spread him further.

Dimitri hisses suddenly, nails biting into Sylvain’s shoulders meanly. “Stop that,” he growls. The apparent rage is almost enough to scare Sylvain off entirely.

Instead, he lets go of Dimitri’s dick to grab his hip. Dimitri kicks at him and shoves his shoulders again, but Sylvain manages to hold him down. “Whoa, whoa--Your Highness.” Dimitri cuts him off by trying to slam their foreheads together. Sylvain’s hand shoots up to curl around his throat before he can. He arches against the hold, a choked scared little noise leaving his throat, until Sylvain grabs his cock again. “Calm down, Dimitri.” His eyes flutter and then fall closed and Sylvain gives his dick a tight stroke.

They spend a moment catching their breath, before Sylvain’s wet fingers drag down the inside of Dimitri’s thigh. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“No!” Dimitri bites out. Sylvain ignores him as he reaches for the laces of his own pants.

“I know it feels good, Your Highness. It’s okay.” He pulls his cock out and spits into his palm. Dimitri squirms and Sylvain’s grip on his neck tightens. “You trust me, don’t you?” He whispers. Dimitri’s brows pinch together, chest rising and falling on hectic little breaths. Sylvain doesn’t wait for a response. He wedges his hips between Dimitri’s thighs again, a hand around his cock to guide to his hole. “Trust me,” he whispers, “Trust me to make you feel good.” He strokes his thumb over Dimitri’s pulse point. And then he starts to press inside. 

The prince flutters around him, chest heaving and jaw clenching as Sylvain strokes at his throat and tries to keep him calm. It's difficult when he’s clenching like a vise, so obviously trying to stay unmoved against the waves of pleasure. Sylvain’s spine curls, a groan spilling into the hot air between them as his hips meet Dimitri’s ass. His hands are hovering in the space between them, a poor shield against Sylvain’s desires. He grips Dimitri’s wrists, fingers digging into his smooth skin when the tendons shift and he tries to get away. Sylvain pins them on either side of his hips, resting his weight on the delicate bones until the prince lets out a grunt of pain. “Be careful, Dimitri,” Sylvain murmurs, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dimitri’s lips form around words he cannot seem to voice, and instead he twists his head away from Sylvain. Still pinning Dimitri’s hands out of his way, Sylvain starts to pump his cock in and out of his prince. His insides are hot and clenching, making Sylvain struggle to breathe. His grip keeps slipping on the prince’s wrists, hands sweaty and head light as he starts to fuck him harder. Dimitri rocks against the ground, thighs hitched up around Sylvain’s ribcage. Even when he tries to appear dispassionate, Sylvain can feel the desire inside of him. His hole suckling at the length of his cock, lips bitten to bleeding to restrain his noises, pre-come pooling on his belly. And, he’s no longer bothering to fight.

“Baby,” Sylvain moans, low and earnest. He leans over Dimitri again, kissing at his chest as he fucks into him even harder. “My love,” he whispers, tasting Dimitri’s skin and memorizing the feeling of being inside him. Dimitri twists below him, an aborted little noise breaking from between his teeth when his hips curve into the thrusts of Sylvain’s cock. “You feel… amazing,” Sylvain pants, a hand disappearing from Dimitri’s wrist to grab his thigh instead. He lifts Dimitri with a single hand, angling his hips until his head falls back and he  _ moans _ true and earnest and nearly enough to make Sylvain spill inside him immediately.

Everything becomes a bit frantic then. Sweat soaks through the clothing Sylvain hadn’t bothered to take off, his throat raw with the noises Dimitri wrings out of him. He fucks into him with little thought to his pleasure, only keeping his hips lifted to hit that spot inside him again and again. He twitches every time Sylvain is seated entirely inside him, back arching and making Sylvain feel like a truly devout man.

His hand creeps from Dimitri’s hip to his ass, fingers probing at where they’re connected--carnal and overwhelming. Sylvain watches as Dimitri’s teeth sink into his pretty, pink tongue, his groan rattling somewhere in his chest. “Dimitri, please.” The prince blinks back at him, glimmering eyes gone hazy. “It’s me, baby.” The prince shudders then and Sylvain swivels his hips to grind deep inside him. “Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, as his fingers press at Dimitri’s puffy rim.

Dimitri arches like he’s been electrocuted. His belly spasms, wrist ripped from Sylvain’s grip as his fingers slide into his own hair. His face is hidden between his arms, but it's impossible to ignore the wail that’s ripped from his throat as his cock twitches and spills across his belly. Sylvain doesn’t bother to try and grab his wrists again. He holds onto the backs of his knees instead, nearly forcing Dimitri in half as he starts fucking him again. The stilted, pained moans don’t stop, if anything they only become louder as the cum starts to cool on Dimitri’s skin.

“Oh, baby,” Sylvain purrs at him, cock twitching and blood racing as his nails bite half moons into his skin. “I knew it, I knew it,” he says, mainly to himself. Dimitri’s trembling below him, whimpering moans going choked with tears as his cock starts to fatten up again. “You love it, you love it, don’t you?” He’s murmuring to himself now, the sound of their skin slapping together begins to echo off the roughly hewn stones around them and harmonizes with the stuttering sound of Dimitri’s tears. “You’re so beautiful,” he groans, hands slipping and fingers bruising Dimitri’s thighs until his grip holds again.

Dimitri sobs from behind his palms and Sylvain can just barely see his eyes clenched shut behind the cage of his fingers. His lips are still parted and bitten red, slick with saliva, and Sylvain wants to kiss him so bad he almost can’t think. Instead, his chin falls against his chest, hair sticking to his sweaty temples as he focuses on the clench of Dimitri’s hole around him. The heat in his belly reaches fever pitch, bubbling and boiling and threatening to spill over. His eyes rake over Dimitri’s body, from the cum puddled on his belly to the flush over his chest and his puffy nipples and the curve of his lips.

It takes a moment for Sylvain to realize, but his mouth is moving. His mouth is moving and a soft melody is spilling from it, choked with tears but clear enough. Between Dimitri’s sniffling and the wet press of Sylvain’s cock, another moment passes before he can recognize the words on Dimitri’s tongue. A prayer, whispered and reverent, begging for atonement of forgiveness. His cock throbs, blood running thick in his veins as the desire finally boils over. “Oh, fuck, Dimitri--” He groans, nails breaking through Dimitri’s flesh as his cock spills inside him. Heat simmers in his belly, spreading out across his nerves in such a sweet desire, all he can manage is collapsing over top of Dimitri.

He savors the closeness and the heat for as long as he can. It isn’t long enough. Dimitri squirms below him, shoving him away until he can drag himself out from under Sylvain’s dead weight. He lays there, watching from beneath his damp hair as Dimitri gathers his clothing. He dresses efficiently, soberly, ignoring the fingerprints etched into his skin and the cum smearing on the insides of his thighs. Sylvain watches as evidence of their connection is hidden, buried beneath layers of armor.

Dimitri doesn’t look at him again, not when Sylvain whispers his name or when he goes to leave. Dimitri walks off, his feet against the stones the only noise left in the Goddess Tower. Sylvain stares at the space he once occupied long after he’s gone, and once the pain behind his ribs lessens, he stands and wipes away the last remnants of their affair.


End file.
